


hand in unlovable hand

by princegrantaire



Series: drift down into the new dark light [3]
Category: Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrantaire/pseuds/princegrantaire
Summary: Now, of all times, the facts play on a loop in Hal’s mind. They’d sought each other out, desperate for comfort not to be found elsewhere and it’s-- he can’t imagine letting go. He moans, a half-strangled little thing, as Sinestro bites at his neck, pulls him as close as he’ll go. It’s not much, it feels like the world.
Relationships: Hal Jordan/Thaal Sinestro
Series: drift down into the new dark light [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785769
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	hand in unlovable hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slaapkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slaapkat/gifts).



> HI I'VE NEVER WRITTEN NSFW FIC BEFORE AND THIS IS A NIGHTMARE TO ME. I'M LOOKING TO BUY A VICTORIAN FAINTING COUCH.
> 
> technically this is a sequel to my two character studies, which can be found as part of the series, but doesn't require much context other than the fact that hal suffered through some parallax flashbacks and sinestro spent his night mourning lost love (arin)
> 
> as always, thank you @slaapkat for supporting me through THE TORTURE LABYRINTH!!!! UR THE BESTEST FRIEND I COULD ASK FOR
> 
> ENJOY
> 
> PS: i've been desperate to find a halsin fic thats not noncon/dubcon for once so this is that!

Sinestro kisses like he’s got something to prove. He’s methodical even in the midst of it, hungry but calculated as he pulls Hal close, tilts his head with the hand cupping his cheek and licks into his mouth when he’s got him right where he wants him. Above all, Sinestro’s oddly mindful of his teeth -- and Hal doesn’t spend his _every_ waking moment thinking of the too-sharp, catlike canines hiding in there but it’s a close call -- and a touch more restrained than their usual trysts would indicate.

It’s been what they’ve both deemed a _bad night_.

Hal, in well-worn boxers and socks that could withstand some patching up, feels just slightly underdressed here and now, pushed up against his own living room wall. _Not_ grinding against the skinny thigh Sinestro’s got shoved between his legs takes a certain type of Herculean effort but some vestiges of dignity _do_ hold up and he’s not about to be the first to admit just how desperate he’s grown since they’ve crossed the line from potential distraction into reality.

For his part, he’s trying to give back as good as he gets, torn between grabbing at Sinestro’s ass and tugging ineffectually at a Lantern uniform that simply refuses to yield.

Not unlike the man beneath.

Steadily out of breath but not yet willing to stop, Hal opens his eyes without quite meaning to, half intending to hurry things along. Whatever he’s expecting, it’s not Sinestro staring right back. Caught in the act, Hal proceeds to throw himself into an unnecessary cavalcade of disaster -- he gives a muffled yelp, bites down on Sinestro’s lip and smashes the back of his head into the wall all in the same instant attempt to take a step back. Thoroughly rattled, Sinestro seems to fall into the demeanour of a startled cat.

He jumps back, opting for a quick withdrawal of Hal’s remaining balance, and simply stares at the figure now crumpled on the floor, eyes comically wide. There’s very little yellow left in there.

“What _are_ you doing, Jordan?” Sinestro says, hackles up, voice all rough.

At the very least, it’s good to know he hasn’t gone unaffected. Yeah, understatement of the century. From his precariously inappropriate position, Hal wolf-whistles. It doesn’t do much to help. Abrupt, freezing despair sinks in. A piece of the earlier nightmare, the absurdity of the bone-deep exhaustion he’d seen in the mirror and the grey hair lurking beneath dye that can’t hold forever. The _things_ Hal had done, the _crack_ \-- Sinestro’s neck--

“Jordan?”

Right. The distraction he’d been asking for. Hal doesn’t know what Sinestro sees in him, what he’s seeing right now. He should’ve showered, changed, shaved, done _something_ in the ten minutes respite he’d been afforded. Instead, he’d merely waited, eager for salvation. If Sinestro ever recognises the man who’d ended it all, he’s never given any indication. Then again, it’s not exactly Hal’s business to waste his time wondering what Sinestro -- who’d been proud until the horrifying end and who had met his reckoning with fearful disbelief -- gains from this. He wouldn’t like the answer. He _doesn’t_ think he would.

“Sorry,” Hal mumbles as he pushes himself up. Against reason, he’s still hard. Talk about messed up. “Sorry, I just--” They don’t do this. “Why’re _you_ having a bad night?”

More accusatory than intended. Hal’s inopportune expertise in self-pity shines bright.

Sinestro’s tongue darts out to lick at his lips, soothing the bite Hal had bestowed on him. First time for everything, even a role-reversal at short notice. He doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by the whirlwind, the _moods_ , but reluctance persists. “I assumed you had gone home with Carol,” he admits, as sheepish as he ever gets yet imposing all the same. The subject is evidently not to be breached.

Hal doesn’t know what he’s meant to say to that. Distantly flattered, he finds it hard to understand how they’ve gotten here. Sentiment was bound to grow out of familiarity, week after week in each other’s beds, but it still strikes him as too soon.

The less charitable part of him clings to the use of _Carol_. Sure, she gets first name privileges from a wannabe alien dictator and, ten years after the fact, Hal can’t get one goddamn person to believe he’s not seconds away from another--

He’d just wanted to set things right.

And now, Hal gets to spend his Friday nights getting fucked into the mattress by his own nemesis, who also happens to be the main attraction of his very limited social circle. Life’s funny that way.

“If you would rather be left alone,” Sinestro starts and it might just be the first time Hal’s seen him out of his depth, “I can come back tomorrow.”

Like it’s that easy.

Hal’s not about to give up on the best stress relief he knows, with or without the traces of guilt still tainting the night like blood in the water. He _wants_ Sinestro close, he realises. “I'm fine.” Or, he will be. Good enough for Hal. The trick, he’s learned, is to keep moving. “C’mon, we should take this to the bedroom.”

In hindsight, that’s his first mistake.

They’ve never made it in here without anything less than an acute sense of urgency guiding fumbling hands in the dark. Now, Hal hits the light switch on instinct and leaves it at that as he peels off his socks, rolls them up and chucks them under the bed. It’s an exceedingly awkward song-and-dance, one he’s never given much thought before. Death might’ve been kinder.

Sinestro looks like he wants to ask. Wisely, he settles on meeting Hal halfway on the bed, uniform fading away to--

Galaxy-print leggings.

Hal snorts, there’s that ease again. “All that for me?” he jokes, almost means it, too. There _is_ something to knowing what Sinestro prefers to lounge around in, intimacy and all that implies. He swallows down the feeling, whatever it might be, and kisses Sinestro through it. Up close, Sinestro smells pleasantly of the various products that make up his nightly skincare routine -- untranslatable scents and flavours, on a second glance Hal had once risked, but nice nonetheless. His moustache tickles lightly, as it’s always done, but the novelty’s fun, Hal likes the inane reminder that it’s _Sinestro_ he’s doing this with. The thought doesn’t make him feel particularly criminally insane, in the grand scheme of things.

It’s there, in-between dizzying kisses, that they lay down and Hal allows himself to enjoy the warm weight of Sinestro on top of him, his mind gone quiet for the first time that night. Like the vast majority of the few good things in Hal’s life, it doesn’t last. Sinestro keeps moving. It doesn’t seem to be a conscious effort to get anyone’s dick interested in the matter but, rather, some sort of attempt to flip them over.

“What’s wrong?” Hal asks, mostly muffled against Sinestro’s mouth.

Sinestro props himself up on his elbows; he might be faintly flushed, though it’s hard to tell. In a sudden bout of idle curiosity, Hal rubs a thumb over Sinestro’s kiss-swollen lower lip, back and forth, eyes half-lidded. A promise of things to come, maybe. Sinestro himself seems fairly entranced by the movement and only stills Hal’s hand in order to kiss him again.

It barely lasts a moment.

“I was under the impression--” Sinestro clears his throat. “Well, I had a bad night.”

“Okay?” Hal blinks a couple of times in quick succession. “So did I?” he adds, just in case. The meaning is obvious, after a second. Sinestro frowns. Emboldened, Hal takes the opportunity to inch his legs open wider, perfectly -- hopefully-- casual. “So, can I, uh. You know.”

“No?”

It’s Hal’s turn to frown, uncomprehending. “Whaddya mean _no_?” he asks before he can help it, more offended than he would’ve expected.

“No,” Sinestro repeats and attempts to pull Hal on top of him as he rolls over. No such luck where Hal’s concerned, who refuses to budge. The cold air stings in the sudden absence but the view is nice enough, heat pooling low in his stomach at the sight of the thick line of Sinestro’s cock where it’s caught in his leggings. Okay, yeah, Hal’s right back in action. He wants that in him, preferably sooner rather than later.

He kisses Sinestro’s neck, the sharp stretch of his collarbone and it’s no apology because Hal can’t allow himself to entertain the idea but, with any luck, it’s something close enough to incentive. “I _really_ think I had the worse night,” Hal insists, running a hand over Sinestro’s chest, down to his waistband and back again.

“Enough teasing, Jordan.” Sinestro sits up, back against the headboard, chronically stubborn.

Admittedly, Hal’s growing frantic, aching for some friction even if it’s gotta be his own hand. He groans and shakes his head, partially at his own idiocy, as if he’s ever talked Sinestro into a single thing. “Fine, whatever,” he concedes, throwing his hands up while he’s at it, “No one’s getting fucked! Can’t we just--” Hal, unable to find the right words, chooses a jerk-off motion to illustrate his point.

Sinestro’s eyes narrow as he stares Hal down. It’s strangely unnerving. His cock twitches in his boxers, an act better gone unquestioned. “Must you be so vulgar?” Sinestro says, at last, but Hal’s not hearing any arguments.

 _Yes, I really must_ , Hal thinks, unrepentant, and smashes his lips against Sinestro’s.

It’s a brutal kiss, much more their pace than any other point of this bizarro evening, and Hal relishes in the hands tangling in his hair, finds that he simply _needs_. He pants open-mouthed against Sinestro and feels rather than hears the noise that makes it past his lips as his hand dips into Sinestro’s leggings, palming at his cock, already wet with pre-come. Hal’s not far behind. They don’t do this a whole lot, not-- like _this_ , he doesn’t know how Sinestro likes it but the faint, near-wounded sounds he’s making are something else. Hysterical, Hal thinks he might just keel over and die if he doesn’t stumble onto some relief soon.

As a rule, Sinestro keeps it quiet and maybe it’s the late hour or the so-called bad day they’ve been having, maybe even the past week spent in the dreadful company of Star Sapphires but Hal’s grateful for the honesty, the _closeness_.

He pulls back just enough to kick off his boxers, watches Sinestro follow suit with some heistance. There’s always a measure of breathless delight here -- the proof of life, less untouchable than Sinestro’s made himself out to be. He’s handsome in his lean tallness, perpetually and gracefully feline. Hal fights the urge to grab his waist, alluringly tiny, and settles on sliding his hands up Sinestro’s thighs, vaguely entertained by human-pallor on alien-magenta.

It’s not so bad after all, this course of action they’ve settled on.

Hal thrusts forward and gasps, his cock sliding against Sinestro’s, skin-on-skin at long last. It’s just what he’s been missing, the electricity of this first contact almost enough to calm the thrumming in his veins. There’s no space for thoughts of translucent cities and broken bones. It’s never not intense with the two of them but now, of all times, the facts play on a loop in Hal’s mind. They’d sought each other out, desperate for comfort not to be found elsewhere and it’s-- he can’t imagine letting go. He moans, a half-strangled little thing, as Sinestro bites at his neck, pulls him as close as he’ll go. It’s not much, it feels like the world.

“You’re really, ah, good at that,” Hal breathes out, grinning for no reason at all except that he’s _here_ and whatever Sinestro’s doing to his neck has him hard enough to hurt and leaking. Sinestro huffs in amusement against him and it feels like something of a miracle coming from a man who treats sex like he’s about to be graded on his posture.

Longing for a little more, Hal reaches down and discovers that Sinestro’s got much the same idea. Their rings bump against one another, sudden clashing metal, and they both flinch back as if burned. In all honesty, Hal expects a light show.

There’s no spark, explosion or mood-annihilating Guardian.

His ring sorta crackles.

Sinestro, thoroughly unimpressed, squirms. It’s unlike him, though Hal catches a half-aborted movement towards his own cock. Inexplicably, that’s got his face heating up, all this and the thought of Sinestro touching himself--

“Take it off,” Sinestro says, firm.

“Huh?”

“Take off your ring,” he clarifies and by the sound of it, Hal’s got a good five minutes before he’ll be dodging chainsaw constructs.

“Hold on, hold on, why don’t _you_ take off yours? I don’t know if I want something that evil near my dick,” Hal says, crossing his arms. _God_ , he wants to come. This distraction’s turned into a three-ring circus by now.

“Because _I_ am less likely to be spied upon by the likes of Ganthet.”

Nothing worse than when Sinestro’s got a point.

It’s a night of compromises.

Eyes fixed on Sinestro, as if he expects him to swoop in and snatch it, Hal carefully takes off his ring and puts it-- right on the floor, by the bed. “We can’t all have fancy nightstands, okay?” he mumbles, feeling judged. It only gets worse when Sinestro leans to peer down at the discarded ring.

“Have some respect, Jordan,” Sinestro says but he’s on Hal in an instant, hungry kisses all over again that Hal can’t help but melt into. He cups Sinestro’s ass just to drag him closer, hot and hard against him and now Hal’s finally free to wrap his hand around both their cocks, moving on instinct.

It’s _so_ good and so embarrassingly near the edge of enough. All at once, Sinestro’s entwining their fingers together, forcing Hal to tighten his grip and pick up the pace, stroking faster. He wants to look because he never quite gets to, possessed by the need to see Sinestro desperate and _real_. Instead, he breaks the kiss to mouth down Sinestro’s neck and beyond, licking at the sweat on his chest, teeth scraping over his nipples. He’s rewarded with a choked-off moan, Sinestro fighting hard to stifle himself, and Hal jerks at that, thrusting into their hands.

“Please,” Hal whispers, hoarse, and he doesn’t know what he’s asking for but Sinestro seems to know because they’re kissing and it’s all perfect -- the slick-wet noise of their hands moving on their cocks, the scrape of Sinestro’s ring against Hal’s fingers, his thumb circling over the head of his dick.

The universe narrows down to the smell and taste of Sinestro, the heat of him. Hal feels like he’s burning up all over again, trapped in the scorching sun. It’s the same relief.

God, it’s the same _relief_.

When he finally comes, Hal’s paralyzed by white-hot pleasure, groaning into Sinestro’s mouth as he spills into his hand. Sinestro’s own orgasm, a shade more quiet but no less intense, registers only belatedly, marked by something spoken in Korugarian too quickly and too quietly to be translated.

“Holy shit,” Hal gasps out, falls back on the bed while he’s at it, wrung-out.

It’s not too long until Sinestro wipes his hand on Hal’s stomach and proceeds to lay down right on top of him, looking just about as boneless as Hal feels. A little over twenty minutes ago, it might’ve been a devastatingly erotic gesture, currently it’s just kind of--

Sinestro makes a low, rumbling sound that reverberates all through Hal’s chest, pressed up as they are, and then starts… _purring_. It’s disarming. Hal doesn’t know where to put the odd feeling growing in his heart. In fact, he’s not pulled out of this trance until Sinestro starts nosing at his neck and sort of rubbing his face against him, seemingly finding some modicum of delight in it despite Hal’s stubble.

Most days, he thinks, it would’ve almost certainly been a deal-breaker for Sinestro. Today’s not most days.

“I’m sticky,” Hal says, trying to manoeuvre Sinestro off him.

Easier said than done.

The purring gets louder, more profound, and Hal can’t exactly compete with that.

“Your stickiness is no concern of mine, Jordan,” Sinestro decides, sounding a great deal more content than Hal’s ever heard him.

A couple more minutes won’t hurt anybody.

**Author's Note:**

> TELL ME UR THOUGHTS. FIND ME @UFONAUT ON TUMBLR. BUT ALSO HERE


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